Shine Like A Thousand Stars
by Ro221B
Summary: "Annabeth," his tone was serious, "you are the night sky. You are the fierce, strong darkness. You are the bright, shining stars and you are the beautiful silver moon. There might be clouds covering your light at the moment, but that is just a moment, and I know that you'll come out again, shining like a thousand stars."


**Shine Like A Thousand Stars**

 **Hey, how are you all?**

 **I should probably focus more on proper fanfic/stories instead of posting one shots but those stories take a while and there has to be something for you guys to read otherwise I feel guilty - plus, the one shots are a great way for me to practice PJO writing in that world and to get some feedback ;)**

 **Moving swiftly on, I know that on the fourth day of Tartarus this wasn't what happened by its my version of what happened so... yeah :D**

 **Let me know what you think,**  
 **Love you all!**  
 ***Virtual Hugs***

 **Ro x**

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This world was making Annabeth doubt herself. This world of fire and shadow and bone, this endless void of darkness, this eternal pit of suffering was driving her mad. She saw things that weren't there, she heard things that Percy didn't, she knew dark things, simple things that she knew like how she knew her blood ran red, that she shouldn't.

Things like how she knew that she and Percy were going to die down here. Their bodies would be left to burn or rot; there'd be nothing left of them, nothing left to show that they had lived and breathed and loved, except a pile of ashes.

Annabeth cursed herself silently. She was a daughter of Athena, she shouldn't be thinking of such silly things. Athena always had a plan, she was always calm in the face of battle, and she never ever gave up. But Athena was also smart, she knew when her efforts were in vain, and Annabeth was starting to wonder if that was what her mind was doing - coming to the realization that her attempts at survival were futile.

The only thing that made her burning limbs move was the thought that, somewhere out there, there was a world free of this chaos and incomprehensible madness. That somewhere her friends and her family were aboard the Argo II and fighting to defeat Gaea and retrieve Leo.

She didn't want to think that they were all working to help her and Percy, that they were devising a plan to help them escape. Annabeth could handle herself stuck down here. Selfish as it was, she could even accept the fact that Percy was down here with her (as long as they were together, pain and death weren't a thing to be feared).

But the mere idea of the seven and everyone at Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter down here, in the hopes of helping them, sent a chill up her spine and a thorn of fear punctured her heart. She had watched too many heroes die, she had lost too many friends, and she would be damned if she let it happen again. If it happened again... because of _her._

Heaving a sigh, Annabeth stopped walking. She just stopped. Stopped walking, stopped moving, stopped thinking, she even stopped breathing. She was done. Annabeth Chase was officially done.

These past few days, she had been gripping at the fraying, snapping remains of sanity and hope. But now... now, she was grasping at air - acidic, smokey, poisonous air, just like the air that filled her lungs and coated her like a second skin.

Without looking up, Annabeth heard Percy move to sit beside her. _Strange_ , she mused, _I don't even remember sitting down._ She could feel the heat of his skin next to her, could smell the sweet scent of sea salt mixed with sweat as he moved closer.

Annabeth was both relieved and astounded to smell the sea. Relieved to know that there was still some of her Percy inside him, loyal and fighting, and astounded at the fact that even in Tartarus, he could be the the same... on the outside, anyways.

Looking up, Annabeth felt her heart stutter. She hadn't looked nor spoken to Percy in hours (she had told him that morning not to speak for that would only increase the amount of toxic air they both inhaled) and the thought hadn't even occurred to her to check if he was okay.

Selfish. Even if he had a sword sticking out his stomach, Annabeth doubted whether Percy would ever let anyone know. He never wanted to worry anyone, it was a fatal flaw. His skin looked to be a sickly grey colour, soot swirled on his skin from where they had been standing too close to a fire; his eyes were dull, the pupils large and worried and his dark hair was damp and stuck to his forehead. He just seemed drained, as if the burning flame that made Percy Jackson who he was had burned out.

"Percy," Annabeth breathed, her voice catching in her throat. She inhaled a shaking breath and the sound flickered in her lungs and she coughed ever so slightly. "What are we going to do?"

He smiled - a weary, tired, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless - and moved to brush a piece of her hair out of her eyes. "We're going to get out of here, Wise Girl. I don't care if it takes me until my bones have turned to dust, we will get out of here. I can promise you that."

Feeling tears prick her eyes, Annabeth turned away and toyed with the end of a strand of hair. "Athena once told me to know when to pick your battles; when to fight and when to give in," she looked up at him slowly, "Percy, I think-"

"No." He cut her off and, moving with the strength and speed Annabeth didn't know he'd have the energy to possess, stood to give her his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and pulled herself up. "Don't you dare say that. Promise me, Wise Girl, promise me that you won't give up."

There was such a strong, burning fierceness in his gaze that Annabeth stopped and blinked. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I promise."

Percy nodded and, still with his hand in hers, led them away from where they had slumped against the wall and across an open plane. She tugged on his hand, about to ask him if he had a death wish when he got out Riptide and motioned for her to take out her dagger. She obliged.

Unconsciously, the two of them moved back to back, both of their weapons poised for a fight. "Seaweed Brain, what do you think you are doing?"

He laughed and Annabeth felt a wave of anticipation and exhilaration wash over her. She felt strong and sturdy and sure. She felt like she was ready for anything and everything because she and Percy would not die down here. They wouldn't. She wouldn't allow it.

"Annabeth," his voice was serious, "you are the night sky. You are the fierce, strong darkness. You are the bright, shining stars and you are the beautiful silver moon. There might be clouds covering your light at the moment, but that is just a moment, and I know that you'll come out again, shining like a thousand stars." She didn't allow herself to have the time to feel touched, she only tightened her grip on the hilt of her blade and narrowed her eyes.

She would fight. She would fight for herself, for Percy, for the seven, for Cam Half-Blood, for Camp Jupiter, for the Gods... she'd fight for all of them. Both of them would and they'd make the phrase _you could walk through hell with a smile on your face_ mean something.

And so Percy and Annabeth raised their blades and fought like the heroes they had been trained to be. But, more importantly, they fought like the heroes they were.


End file.
